Shattered Body, Fractured Mind
by Teenbat
Summary: Turn back time to the night before the Clockwerk Parts heist. An over-auspicious Bentley decides to put his plan into play early, while the Klaww Gang are in the museum. The close call makes them stick together, rather than split up. Nothing is how it should be. Throw in a little bit of romance, suspense, and insanity. R&R, flames accepted.
1. Chapter 1

What is this? This is something I've wanted to do for quite a while. Basically, it's a novelization of Sly 2, with my own spice (no pun intended) placed here and there. The storyline is absolutely the same as in the game. Or is it?

OK, I guess I had better put this down. NO, IT'S NOT THE SAME AS IN THE GAME. It changes at the end of the second chapter, and is basically a different storyline from then on.

Usually the legal mumbo-jumbo goes here, but I'm going to tempt fate and _not _put it here. Hehe.

* * *

He slid down the rope, part of it wrapped around his calf, his weapon acting as a carabineer above his head, slowing his descent into the large, dark foyer. Once he was about ten feet above the ground, the rope ended, and he dropped, landing silently on the museum floor. _Now, I wait. _He walked around in a large circle, taking in his surroundings. There were two decorative pools with faux lily pads on either side of the room, a water purification pump near the back wall (the only source of noise) and a decorative light in the center of the room covered by an elastic white cloth. _That could be useful. _The wall behind him was mostly glass, showing the darkening orange sky of Cairo, a pyramid off in the distance.

Looking up, he saw a large bleached whale skeleton and ledges around the entire room. There were security guards patrolling the ledges on the back and right walls._ It can't be _that_ easy, can it? _The red pouch strapped to his left leg buzzed, signaling a call. He pulled out the Binocucom and looked into the lens. On the left side of the tube was a small screen with a familiar turtle's face. He spoke in a nasally voice.

"Breaker Alpha Foxtrot, this is the Wizard, do you read me Sitting Duck?" Leave it to 'the Wizard' to make things more complicated than they needed to be. He decided that he would have some fun with this.

"This is Peking Duck, I hear you, _Blizzard_." The turtle raised an eyebrow, then continued on.

"No Sly, I'm 'the Wizard' and you're 'Sitting Duck.'" He was going to fight this, wasn't he? Sly decided that he could, and _would _go as long as the turtle did.

"I read you loud and clear, _Lizard_."

"No I'm… Forget it, you're not taking this seriously." Finally, he got it. It was just another day, just another heist.

"Yeah, I'm not. Look Bentley, I know this is your first time out in the field, but you've got to loosen up! If we're going to get those Clockwerk Parts I need you on your toes. So in plain talk, what's your status?"

Bentley muffled a sneeze, then said "Well, I've established myself in the basement and I'm pretty sure I can rewire the service elevator if you can power it up from that security station." At _that_, an arrow appeared on the screen pointing to the left side of the room. On the wall above the walkway there was a power box, right next to an elevator's scissor gate, and fifteen feet to the right of _that _was a large security gate, locked tight. That was the current target.

"Hang tough pal, it might take some time, but I'll figure out a way to get up there." With that, Sly put the Binocucom back into his pouch and looked around. Sly had already figured out how to get over there, but he decided to case the joint before he helped his friend out. There wouldn't be much of value here, but at least he would finish out the night richer than he was before. The Clockwerk Parts would be valuable, but the gang would never be able to sell them. They were going to stay locked in a basement, or placed in concrete, or sunk to the bottom of the ocean. They would be somewhere where NO ONE would be able to put them back together and unleash the terror that was Clockwerk.

After pocketing a few gems, jewels, and gold rings, Sly got on with the night's business. He took a running leap at the light in the center of the room and bounced high into the air, landing on the whale skeleton hanging from the ceiling. The rib bones clacked together as Sly walked across them, dust spilling to the ground. _Oops… It looks like the janitor is going to be working for his paycheck tonight. _Sly hopped off the end of the tail and landed next to the power box. It was padlocked, but that didn't turn him away. The lock was rusting, so a twist of his cane between the body and the shackle popped it open.

The power box opened with a squeak, revealing an array of wires, but they were of no interest to Sly. He pushed the wires around before finding a switch on the back-plate. "Bingo," he said as he flipped it with a snap. A quick thumb on his Binocucom routed the system to his ear piece. "Alright Bentley, it's on."

A moment later Bentley replied, "OK, I've sliced the wires- OW! Hold on… There it is." There was a rising grinding sound and sparks sprayed from the power box as the elevator raised into view. The scissor gate opened, and the Brains turned away from the service elevator's console.

"So now-" Sly started.

"No time to talk, let me at that security computer."

"Uh… OK…" Sly followed Bentley as he scuttled across the walkway, crossbow in hand, large pith helmet bobbing as he moved. He made it to the computer station on the other side of the security door and rapidly started to hack into it. Sly looked across the room and watched a pacing guard, snickering at his slow pace and bumbling stride. He didn't even have a weapon, just a flashlight. How would he protect a museum, much less himself?

"The spotlights are offline," Sly turned back to the large gate just as the lights blinked out, "There goes the laser security system," the red beams shortened into nothing, "Working on the security gate." A few more moments and: "Presto, all clear." The gate rose up, opening a pathway deeper into the museum.

"Thanks pal, for your first time out, you did pretty well," Sly said.

"Oh, this operation is far from complete. Now that the lasers and spotlights are offline, Murray should be moving into position for your rendezvous. I'll stay here and provide computer support while you go on ahead." Bentley turned back to the screen.

"You got it." Sly twirled his cane as he snuck down the now darkened hallway.

* * *

OK, that's it, the end of the first chapter. I know, it's pretty short, but I think that what I'll do is write a thousand words or so to most chapters and update a little more often than usual. Anyway, please leave a review to let me know how I'm doing. Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

His shoes echoed quietly, _ever so quietly_, as he walked down the hallway. There were guards patrolling the corridors on Sly's left and right, stopping at the security gates, then doing an about face and tracking over the exact same carpet that they did only thirty seconds ago. Glass cases lined the wall, containing artifacts from who knows where (or when?). Sly's fingers twitched as he walked, kleptomaniacal urges coursing up and down his body. He thrust his hand into his pouch and fingered the ring that he had stolen just moments before, calming his nerves. _Almost there… Almost there. _Bentley came on the museum PA, his voice even more nasally and deep than normal.

"Attention all guards, this is the network administrator. We're installing some new software into the security mainframe, so don't be alarmed if some systems get turned off for a while. Uh, thank you, you're all doing a great job." The PA clicked off. _That Bentley… _Sly continued down the hall, then turned the corner, revealing a stairway. He looked at the variety of paintings adorning the wall as he walked up them. At the top, Sly's Binocucom buzzed, and annoyed he thumbed the button.

"Yes, Bentley?"

"Just near you there should be a power line? Just jump and hit-"

"I know, I know, just lemme do my stuff pal. I'll see you at the inside. Be sure to bring the-"

"I know, I know, just lemme do my stuff pal." Sly could feel Bentley smiling. He thumbed off the ear connection, jumped in the air, and landed on the power line that was stretching from this building to an alley across the road. Cane held behind his back knife-fighter style, Sly used it as a balance as he scampered down the line. Pigeons were perched on the wire between the buildings, sleeping soundly despite the roaring of the cars on the road not fifty feet away. Sly was tempted to swing at them, but before he got close enough their orange eyes opened and they all flew away at the same time.

The power line exited from the alley on the other side of the road and reached to the building that Sly was headed for. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement in the courtyard. There was a large group of people moving into the building that housed the Clockwerk Parts, flashlights off. _Maybe I'm gonna be cracking some skulls tonight_. What were five guards? Just two years ago, Sly had defeated someone that had been living for thousands of years. Overweight, weaponless pigs were nothing.

Sly stepped off the power line and walked into the room, looking around. _Come on Murray, where are ya big guy? _He walked over to a cabinet that was in the corner of the room and opened it up, revealing a china tea set and doilies. _Meh, nothing worth the pocket space, plus they would probably be crushed while we are carrying the Parts._

There was a grunting noise, like someone close was out of breath. They inhaled deeply and then shouted "THUNDER FLOP!" The Brawn came through the skylight, smashing the table in the center of the room. "Greetings citizen, I hope you weren't harmed by my meteoropic entrance."

"No Murray, I kept at a safe distance," Sly replied, holding in a chuckle.

"Good, good… The Thunder Flop knows neither friend nor foe, only DESTRUCTION!" Murray flexed his arms as he shouted.

"Yeah, could you maybe channel some of that 'raw energy' into this," Sly pointed at the other side of the room, "security gate?"

"Of course, it is nothing before 'The Murray.'" Another flex, and he walked over to the gate, bending over and gripping it with his gloved fingers. Muscles rippled, veins bulged, and sweat dripped as Murray strained the gate. It groaned under the pressure before a loud _CRACK_ rang out and the gate flew upwards. Murray held it there while Sly walked under, then dropped it behind himself.

They both walked to the edge of the balcony, looking across the way at the building that housed their bounty. The entrance was blocked by yet another security gate. Murray raised his arms up, one bent by his head, the other outstretched in front of him, aiming towards Sly. "Another barrier stands before you… Fear not, I shall bend it like the truth!" _Whuh… How?_

Murray stomped on the ground next to a large cobra statue, launching it in the air before catching it. Sly could hear him straining, which wasn't surprising, that statue had to weigh at least two thousand pounds! A moment later he hurled it through the air, and it flew a hundred feet before smashing into the security gate.

"Solid work Murray, you're really in the zone!" Murray sat for a moment flexing his muscles before looking at the rope that connected the two buildings.

"My hulking frame is too much for that puny rope. You go ahead and unlock the doors from the inside. I'll be waiting in the hallway to help you carry out the Clockwerk Parts." Sly nodded to Murray before jumping onto the rope. As Sly ran across he looked back, and Murray was gone. He snickered, then continued on before reaching the other balcony.

The security gate was twisted beyond recognition, and chunks of sandstone lay on the ground. Sly looked up into the eyes of another cobra statue before entering the West Wing of the museum. He rounded the corner, prepared to see the dismembered body of Clockwerk, but that wasn't all he saw. There was a group of five dragging the Clockwerk Wings across the ground, out the door and into what looked like an airport van. And that group of five was _not _a group of overweight security guards.

It was a haphazard group of people from varying social groups; a cigarette smoking purple-clad lounge lizard, a tiger with a prince-like air about him, a red buffalo dressed in skins and covered in dirt, a bird cage with mechanical legs that contained a small parrot, and then someone else in the darkness, what species they were Sly did not know.

"Hey! Meat heads!" Sly shouted, cane arm outstretched. They all looked to him before ramming the remaining Clockwerk Parts into the van. The one that stayed in the shadows moved with extreme speed, running out the door before Sly could see who they were. He dashed down the stairs, attempting to catch them, but they slammed the door shut before he got there, lodging something against the handle, keeping Sly from opening it.

Just then, the other door burst open, and Sly heard a familiar "Stop, thief!" Carmelita fired her shock pistol at him, the electric bolt slamming into the wall mere inches from his head. He flinched, before taking off back up the stairs. Carmelita began to chase him, firing her gun along the way. Rather than going back along the rope he came across, as that was a dead end, he took a left, opening a door. _Let's hope this isn't a closet! _It wasn't. It was the main hall of the West Wing. Sly thumbed his Binocucom to its second setting.

"Bentley, Murray, someone beat us to them, meet me back at the van!" Before either of them could reply, he turned off his comm. link and ran down the next set of stairs that led to the main floor. Carmelita was hot on his tail.

"Don't think about it ringtail, you won't get away! I've got a whole squad of police cruisers blocking off all exits! You're going to jail for sure!"

"I haven't stolen anyth-"

"Don't start with me! Who else would steal the Clockwerk Parts?!" The end of the hall was in sight, a large glass window blocking Sly's escape.

"No idea, but when you figure it out, give me a call!" Sly leaped cane first into the window, shattering it on impact. A rope beckoned, but not for long. Sly was on it in a moment, going as fast as his balance would allow him. Carmelita smashed through a different window, landing on a decorative obelisk, firing her pistol rapidly. _Quantity, but with the sacrifice of quality._ The bolts went everywhere except where Sly was. Luck? Or maybe it was Carmelita's doing, purposely missing as to not hit her love interest. _If only I _were _her love interest._

Sly sprinted across the rooftops, the fox leaping from point to treacherous point after him. He saw the van driving down a road, six police cars hot on its tail. One more rooftop before Sly flipped over the edge and slid down a water pipe. Murray pulled a dangerous move, doing a drifting u-turn, the doors popping open. Sly threw himself into the body of the van and pulled close the doors. "I'm in! Go!" The tires squealed and they burst out of the alleyway, just missing the squad cars that were trying to corner them.

* * *

There it is, Chapter 2. There are obvious differences from the game, aren't there? What am I doing? Stay tuned to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

Sly sat in the passenger seat, stroking his chin, thinking about what had just taken place. _Who were those people? Why did they want the Clockwerk Parts? How did Carmelita know that we would be there?_ Those were the unanswered questions swimming around in his mind. He turned around, resting his chin on his arm. "Hey, Bentley?"

Bentley held up his finger, signaling _one moment_, and then continued typing out whatever code he was working on. A moment later and he turned to Sly, fingers interlaced across his stomach, smiling very contently. Sly continued. "Do you know who those guys were? And what they collected the parts for?"

"I assume that they wanted the parts for their value. The alloy that they are made of seems to be indestructible. Tear the pieces apart and bolt those to a tank and nothing can stop it. Who they are… Not sure. I'm making a program that will help me crack into the Interpol database so we can figure out who they are… How many were there? Five, you said?"

"Yeah, there were five of them, a lizard, a tiger, a buffalo, and a parrot, and there was also someone hiding in the shadows that I couldn't get a good look at, so I can't be sure… But they were fast, very fast." Bentley's eyebrows knit together, and though he couldn't see them, Sly knew that his eyes were closed.

Sly turned back around and let Bentley think. They were headed toward the Cairo International Airport to see if they couldn't catch the crooks before they left the country, but the roads were so packed that it would take them an hour to get there. _Let's hope they didn't beat this traffic rush, and I know that Carmelita didn't_, Sly thought. If that band of thieves had beaten this, then there was no way that the Cooper Gang would reach the airport in time to stop them.

"… In other world news," the radio said, "an escape attempt from Qincheng Prison nearly succeeds, but then fails spectacularly, in a very literal sense. One of the inmates used prisoner available supplies to create an explosive that slammed against the wall, blowing a hole in it while sending colorful sparks everywhere, injuring hundreds of inmates, and nearly killing one. So far as it is known, no prisoners made it out, but an official head count has yet to be completed. Please stay tuned for more information on developing stories. Nate Fox for Sucker Pun-"

Murray snapped to another station, reggae playing loudly. Sly looked out the passenger side window, looking into cars and watching the occupants with their white knuckles and angry faces. He snickered as one driver screamed at the car in front of him that had just cut him off. _One car won't make a difference in this traffic._ "Sly," Bentley said, "Is this that lizard you were talking about?"

Sly turned around and looked at the screen. There was a purple iguana in a green suit and a red shirt facing away from the viewer, head turned sideways, spiny blue crest slicked back, curling around his ears. "That's him. That's the guy."

Bentley proceeded to read a short bio on him. "Dimitri Lousteau is the owner of Le Paon Discothèque, or the Peacock Nightclub, in Paris, France. He is suspected of forgery, along with criminal dealings, smuggling, and the drugging of his patrons. He has escaped from jurisdiction multiple times due to lack of evidence."

"Well, what's the last known location on him? I'm guessing that they will be going to Paris, back to his nightclub, right?" Sly raised an eyebrow.

"I can take a look… I'm guessing that he's the rich one of the group, and even if he isn't, his 'gang' probably uses the nightclub to launder money, so I'm sure that we can find some credit card records on him… Give me a moment." Bentley went back to the computer. Sly watched as his fingers flew across the shiny metallic keyboard. "OK, I got a suspected account of his open… And it looks like it has recently been used here in Cairo. That's a good thing, uh, and those purchases were, among other things, five plane tickets to… Moscow."

"Moscow? When does the flight take off?"

"Buh buh buh… Twenty… _two _minutes."

"Are there any seats available?" Sly was hopeful, but in hindsight he was awfully optimistic.

"Let's see… Yes. The plane is full enough to justify the flight, but it still has maybe 25 seats left in economy. BUT-" Bentley continued before Sly could speak, "to get through security and such would take over an hour, and add in the fact that we aren't even at the airport yet, there is no way we'll make it in time. We'll have to catch a later flight and worry about finding them when we get there."

Sly closed his eyes and tucked his chin into his chest. _An international chase? There's got to be something we can do…_

"Man," Murray started, "If only we had a little more time and the van weighed less… We could give it wings!" The van was Murray's favorite past-time; besides working out, of course. He was always replacing parts, modding the engine and adding more decals to the already over-crowded sides.

"Murray, you're a genius!" Coming from Bentley, that was one of the highest praises that anyone could receive.

"I am? I mean, of course I am!" Murray flexed and Sly had to grab the wheel to keep them from drifting into one of the cluttered lanes on either side of the van.

"Yes! Why didn't I think of this before? Don't stop driving. We're still going to the airport." Bentley began smashing keys with such intensity that Sly thought that keyboard would crack. Windows and programs were going through the screen at a mile a minute.

"Wait… You can't be serious Bentley," Sly protested, "We're giving the van wings?" Bentley had once before protested to the idea, saying the van was in no way aerodynamic enough to justify the mod. It would be faster, and more cost-efficient, just to drive on the ground.

"Yes! Well, no. In a sense. Do you remember those prototype electromagnets that I built?"

"The ones so powerful that they ripped the plumbing right through the floor?" That was quite a messy experiment, as it was chili night, and Murray had been in the restroom for an hour before the event.

"Yep, those are the ones I was talking about. I've still got a few in here, and if we use them in conjunction with this cable," he opened up a case, revealing coils of silver-colored rope, "We can-"

"No…" Sly was dubious.

"Yes!"

"We're going to attach the van to the bottom of an airliner? We'll die, _if_ we even get onto the runway before security stops us!" Murray turned off of the road into an underground parking garage, shaving minutes off of their journey. Helicopters could be heard flying overhead.

"This is going to be AWESOME!" Murray was crouching low, peeking through the steering wheel as the vans modified engine jumped from 15 to 60 miles per hour in just under three seconds, thanks to the new turbocharger that he had installed only days before. The speed continued to increase.

"I'm surprised, Sly, usually _I'm _the one to second guess these plans… Maybe it's just the adrenaline from breaking into the museum…"

"Adrenaline or no, the plan is insane either way."

"Oh, we'll see. You'll soon have adrenaline coursing through your veins. _Then _you can make the decision."

"I'll soon… What? Why would I-"

"How do you think we're going to attach the van to the plane?" Bentley was connecting the claw-like electromagnets to the cables.

* * *

Five security vehicles, one of them driven by Miss Fox who had arrived only minutes earlier via helicopter, chased the Cooper van across the tarmac. "YOU HAD BETTER NOT DO… WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE DOING, RINGTAIL!" Her already loud voice was now much louder as she shouted through the car's megaphone. "GET DOWN FROM THE ROOF OF THE VAN AND PULL OFF THE RUNWAY! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR 71 COUNTS OF PETTY LARCENY, 84 COUNTS OF TRESPASSING, 15 COUNTS OF _GRAND _LARCENY IN THE FOURTH DEGREE, 13 COUNTS IN THE THIRD DEGREE, NINE COUNTS IN THE SECOND DEGREE, TWO IN THE FIRST DEGREE… AND MANY, MANY MORE!"

Sly looked back, careful to keep his footing on the speeding vehicle. He locked eyes with Miss Fox, then winked and, though she couldn't hear it, clicked his tongue. She was surprised, but only for a moment. The officer in the passenger seat was giving her a stupid grin. Nothing a quick boot to the face couldn't handle. _I have no obligation to these men, _she thought. He flew out of the door and rolled on the runway.

That was all Sly needed. When she kicked the officer, her boot was off of the accelerator for just a moment, slowing the vehicle just enough so it would be impossible for her to catch up in the time that she had.

"Sly!" Bentley was shouting through the earpiece.

"Bentley, you don't need to shout, it's in my ear. There's no interference from the 75 MILE AN HOUR WINDS!"

"Alright… Well, you've got ten, maybe 15 seconds _tops _before the plane takes off. Stop winking at the Inspector!" Two of the four electromagnets were attached to the belly of the plane. Sly attached the third.

"Bentley, isn't the fuel precisely measured according to the weight of the plane and its cargo? Won't this make the plane just heavy enough so we can't make it to the destination?"

"No, don't you remember earlier?! I hacked into the airport's mainframe and reserved some weight before it was full! If we _don't _connect, they'll have more fuel at the end of the flight than they were expecting, and that could be disastrous to the _next _flight." Sly could see the end of the runway. There was mere seconds before the plane would lift off of the tarmac and leave them hanging with only three connection points. _That would not be good._

Sly hoisted the final electromagnet. "Uh, Bentley… The cable's too short! The magnet won't reach! You've got to turn it to full power so it will connect from here!"

"We don't have the time! The power levels don't jump, they slowly rise! Are you sure you can't connect?"

"Yes, Bentley, I'm sure! The cable's a foot too short!"*

"Impossible! I measured the cables myself!" They wouldn't know until later, but the final cable, while indeed the correct length, was snagged on the corner of one of the computers set up in the back of the van, hindering it just enough to keep it from reaching.

"The Murray has got ya covered!" The van turned right just enough to hit an oncoming pothole, popping up the back right corner and slamming the electromagnet into the fuselage, and at the same time, knocking Sly off of the van. He couldn't hear it, but Carmelita shouted out in fear.

A new invention of Bentley's lashed out, a robotic arm reaching for Sly's ankle. Sly saw a flash of silver, but then the world went black, he head smacking on the asphalt.

* * *

Alright guys, third chapter. Sorry it took a while to post, I hit something called "writer's block." Anyway, please review! I would love to know what people think! Tell me what I need to improve, or even tell me if I should just quit now and let this story fall into oblivion.

* * *

*I'm assuming that Sly is around six feet like the team mug-shot image suggests, not two feet like in reality.


	4. Chapter 4

**12 YEARS EARLIER**

"Don't be afraid, Sly. If you fall, I will catch you. I'm right here." Sly looked down from his perch. At the base of the abandoned apartment building, standing in the alley below was Father, arms outstretched, smile spread across his chiseled face. "If you need to, you can look up. Look up there and see _all _of that space. The sky is very big, and what's below you is very small. There's nothing to be afraid."

Sly breathed in deep, and then said "OK, dad." He looked up. The sky _was _big. But looking at it, well, it had the opposite affect than it should have. He got vertigo, and felt like he was a bat, hanging by his feet, miles and miles above the ground. _I'm going to fall and fall, and then I'll hit the moon._

Sly wavered. Bile rose up in his throat. Looking back down, Father was gone. Not there to catch him. _Right when I need you most, you aren't there!_

It happened on occasion. Sly's father had a job that could take him away from home at any moment. What that job was, Sly didn't know, but it must have been a good one because they were rich. They owned a penthouse, cars, jewelry, and many more things, most of which Sly didn't even know about.

"Dad!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to get Father to come back from wherever he was. "I can't do it!"

"Yes you can, son. I'm right here." Father touched his arm, steadying Sly's shaking body. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I've got you."

"I thought that you-"

"No, I would never leave without first telling you. And I will _always _come back before too long. Always." They shimmied along the ledge, and then entered an open window near the corner. "See, I didn't even need to hold you. You did it all by yourself!"

Sly was still trembling, though. "Dad, can we go home? I just want to go home…"

"Of course we can." Father wrapped his arm around Sly's shoulders, pulling him in tight. They walked down the hall and took the stairs to the bottom floor. The car was waiting for them outside, engine still running.

Sly hopped into the passenger side seat and strapped himself in. Father did the same on the driver's side. "Hey, guess what?" He put his hand on Sly's knee. "I've got a present for you."

"Really? What is it?"

"Oh, I can't tell you. You'll just have to wait. But it's a good one." Sly looked out the window and thought, straining his brain to figure out what it might be. Cookies? Possibly, but Father wouldn't likely make a big deal out of that. Toys? Another possibility, though Sly already had so many that he doubted it. A trip? Sly hoped not. He was so shaken that all he really wanted to do was go lay down.

They pulled into the parking lot and parked in one of their five designated spots. The other four had cars in them, though, and those were the expensive ones that they only drove when were eating at a nice restaurant or trying to make some sort of impression. Their maid, who Sly was instructed to simply call Madame, was wiping one of the cars down. The red one. The most expensive one.

Upstairs, Mother was sitting on the couch, reading a classic novel. She looked up and grinned. "How was your journey?" She asked, closing the book and setting it on the end table.

"Fantastic dear, I didn't even need to help him once." Mother stood and embraced Sly, squeezing him tight.

"Really? That's fantastic! My boy is turning into a man!" She kissed him on the face many, many times.

"Mom! Mom, stop! Gross!" He pushed away from her as any eight year-old would. Mother put him down, large, very fake, frown spread across her face.

"My little man doesn't need his mother anymore. I understand. If I just disappeared today, you wouldn't miss me at all. Wouldn't bat an eyelash." She began to cry. Sly knew it was fake, but it still made him feel bad.

"No, mom, I _would _miss you! I promise! I would try to find you, and I wouldn't stop until I did. Really!"

"No, you can't hide the truth from your mother. I know how you really feel." Just then, Father swooped in.

"_My _son? No, _my _son respects women always and places them above all else. A woman's needs come first. Isn't that right, Sly?"

"Yeah dad. I would search for you far and wide, even if it took me years!" Mother was smiling again, this time real tears pooling in her eyes.

"OK, I believe you. Thank you." She kissed Father, which, of course, made Sly's stomach flip. He looked away.

"Alright, that really _is _gross! Please, stop!" Mother and Father both laughed (_into each other's mouths, blech_) understanding of Sly's behavior. Father went into the other room, and the kitchen faucet could be heard running.

"Are you excited, honey?" Mother asked.

"For what?"

"Your gift, of course! Didn't your father tell you on the ride home? Or did I steal his thunder?"

"Oh, yeah. He told me all about it… He even told me what it was." A lie of course, but maybe by saying that he could get what it was out of Mother.

"Really? Wow… He told _you _what it was before he even told _me_." That was a lie as well; Sly's cunning wouldn't work on his mother.

"Oh… Well, you'll just have to wait, I guess." Mother laughed and tickled him until Father came back in the room, suitcases in hand. "Wait, where- where are you going dad? Did work call?"

"No, son. Work didn't call. We're all going. This is the first part of your present."

"What is? Where are we going?"

"I _could _tell you... Or I could show you. We're leaving right now, everything is packed. Just a plane ride away, and we'll be there."

"A plane ride?" Sly's heart started beating faster, he was breathing more heavily, and he began to sweat profusely. "Are you sure we can't just drive? Let's take the red car! Madame is probably done cleaning it. It looks really nice."

"Well, yes, we _will _be taking the red car," Father said, "but we can't take it all the way… Where we are going is across the ocean."

"A boat, then! Let's rent a yacht! Mother always wanted to ride in a yacht. Please, Father. Please?"

"Sly, what is going on?" Mother asked, eyes looking sad. "What do you have against the plane?" Father whispered in her ear, presumably telling what had happened earlier. "Oh… Oh, my goodness. And you made him do it anyway?!" She slapped him on the shoulder.

"No, darling, I didn't _make _him do anything. He did it all by himself, like I said earlier."

"Well, maybe…" Mother glanced at Sly, who was looking rather embarrassed. "Come with me, we'll talk someplace else." She led Father into the kitchen. Sly heard them whispering, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.

He felt terrible. Mother and Father were fighting because of him. He and his fear of heights. _Why can't I just grow up? Why am I such a baby? Father wasn't afraid… Father is never afraid…_

A door opened, then closed. _Oh no… Has Mother locked herself in her room? _The door opened again, but didn't close this time. _Was that Father following her in? _Sly braced himself. They had been in fights, recently. Terrible fights. But they both insisted that it wasn't themselves, or Sly. But something else. Something absolutely frightening.

But they didn't shout. They both came out of the kitchen, Father with his arms behind his back. Sly's mind was immediately off of his parents fighting. "Is that my gift? Lemme see, lemme see!"

"Yes, it is. Well, half of it. The plane flight was the other half, but we can wait with that. We can take a boat, but not until tomorrow. We'll stay home tonight. Come, let's talk." Father took Sly's hand in his and led him over to his chair.

Father sat down and pulled the brown paper package out from behind his back. "Jump up." He patted his knee. Sly did, and touched the package. "Ah, ah, not yet." Father stuffed and lit his pipe before taking a large puff. His knee began to bounce. Mother sat down on the couch, fingers interlaced.

"Sly, do you know what you are?" Father asked.

"Yes."

"What are you?"

"Uh, I am a, uh, a raccoon."

"OK… What else?"

"A boy?"

"More."

"A Cooper?"

"Yes, a Cooper. Do you know what a Cooper is? What it means to be a Cooper?" What was Father talking about? Being a Cooper meant you belonged to the Cooper family, just as being a Smith meant you belonged to the Smith family. The only difference was blood. Right?

"No, I'm not sure."

"The Cooper line is the purest line of thieves that time has ever produced." _What? Thieves? Thievery is wrong. Miss Bouchard said so. A joke._

"You're joking, dad. Maybe other Coopers are thieves, but not us. Really, what is my gift?"

"I'm not joking. It's the truth. This," he now allowed Sly to peel off the brown paper, "is our family's history. It was started by," he opened the book and pointed to a drawing on a piece of old papyrus, "him. Slytunkhamen Cooper." Sly couldn't read the Egyptian writing, but there was a piece of paper folded and tucked between the pages.

Father opened it up, revealing multiple translations, one to Japanese, another to English, and another to a language made up of squiggles and dots. At the bottom was French, which was the best for Sly to read, though he _could _read the English.

"Through the ages, our family has moved from country to country. "Egypt, Japan, Scotland, England, even Arabia. Many places. And they were all thieves."

Sly was now shivering, anger curdling inside. "Even grandpa?"

"Yes, even grandpa. He was a great thief. Quite the gentlemen, too."

Here it was. "And… and you? You aren't… Are you, dad?"

"Yes, Sly. I am a thief. It's what I do. It's why we have all, all of this." He gestured around the room, and Sly followed his finger. All the gold and diamonds imbedded in the clocks, and picture frames, door handles and even sparkling in the paint. Sly's eyes stopped on Mother.

"Moth- Mother? Are you one too? A thief?"

"No, I'm not. I never once took anything that didn't belong to me. I stay home to take care of you."

"You knew about this? You knew he was a thief?"

"Yes, soon after we met, he told me. It was surprising at first." Sly looked his father in the eye. Tears welled up in his own. _How could he?_

"How could you?! Why would you do such terrible things?! Why?!" Father was surprised at his son's sudden outburst. He reared his head back.

"I, I thought-"

"NO! I hate you! I will never trust you again! How could you take what's not yours?!" Sly jumped off of his father's lap and ran into the closet. Just then, there was a loud noise in the hallway outside the front door.

"Cooper!" Sly had never heard the voice before. It was grating and metallic. "Come out here, Cooper!"

"My cane!" Father shouted to Mother. Already standing, she ran to the closet that Sly was hiding in, throwing it open. She moved jackets and boxes, which fell, covering Sly. The front door burst open and five 'visitors' came in. Mother now had something in her hand; a wooden stick with a gold hook on the end.

But she was too late. Father was fighting with one of them in hand-to-hand combat. Mother was pulled from the closet by someone else, dropping Father's 'cane' back behind Sly.

He tried to shout, but the sound was caught in his throat. He slammed his eyes shut. Sly could hear thumping and cracking and cloth or… no, cloth tearing. Mother's screams were cut short. He was shaking, though the coats covering his body were hiding it.

The scuffles went on for who knows how long, but when they were over, Sly opened his eyes. The bad ones were gone. He scrambled out and lay across Mother. Her body was still warm, her tears still wet. _Why?! Why is this happening to us? Why my family, my house? Me? _He only cried for a moment before there was a cough.

"Father!" Sly crawled to him and grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it. I don't hate you. I don't. I love you."

But Father didn't hear it. The cough signified his death, and Sly knew it.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

There you go. Please review, either with praise, flame, or constructive criticism.

Thanks.


	5. Chapter 5

Sly's eyes shot open, his eyelids straining to press past his eye sockets. He couldn't move otherwise, or make any noise other than breathing loudly. It caught the attention of Bentley soon enough. "Sly, you're awake! I didn't think it would work, but I suppose I doubted myself from the get go… Anyway, how are you feeling?" Bentley scuttled around to Sly's left side, standing near an IV drip and heart beat monitor that was showing the beats, but wasn't making any sound. "Sly, did you hear me? How are you feeling?"

Sly breathed two sharp, short breaths. Bentley's eyebrow rose for a moment, but then he realized what was going on. "You can't speak? Two breaths for yes, one for no." Sly breathed twice. "OK, does that mean you can't? Or it means, 'Yes, I can speak'?" Sly grunted and pulled his eyelids and brows into the angriest position he could. "Alright, so you can't… Well that's odd. I had to use a special medical compound that I have never used before, so while I knew the main effects, I had no idea what the side effects would be. Let me run a few tests and see what we can do about this."

Sly grunted many times, trying to get out a sentence. Of course, Bentley had no clue what he meant, so he moved away and then slid the marker board over to the bed side. A few squeaky marker squiggles later, and there was a grid with letters inside. "Alright, what's the first letter? Which column?" There were six rows and six columns, containing the alphabet at the ten numbers, and then a seventh column that contained an empty box, which was a space, as well as 'yes', 'no', and a period. Sly grunted twice. "OK, and which row?" He grunted twice again. "Alright, 'h'. Which column?" After two minutes, Sly had grunted most of a sentence before Bentley finished it. "How long have you been out? A few days. We landed in Moscow approximately 5 hours after we took off, and we have been hiding out ever since, waiting for you to wake up. While we didn't apprehend any of the 'Klaww Gang' as they call themselves, I did shoot tracking darts in their luggage as they left the airport, so if I take a moment to triangulate the signals we'll know right where they are."

Suddenly a chill crawled up Sly's spine, tendrils reaching outward, one curling around his heart and squeezing, or so it felt. Sly's face contorted with pain, and he shouted out "What the hell did you do to me, Bentley?!" before unclenching his fists, relaxing his back and frowning.

Bentley, Murray and even Sly were surprised by this sudden angered outburst. None of the trio swore, each for their own reasons; Bentley, because he felt that there were more intelligent ways to show emotions and resorting to bad language just showed that you were childish and stupid; Sly, because very few, if any, women were impressed by a foul mouth, and more often than not were just turned away by it; and Murray for the simple reason that he had reached full neural maturity while living in the orphanage, and no language like that was used, so he would have to strain to use it.

It was absolutely out of character.

Bentley mumbled for a moment before speaking his mind. "I'm not sure, Sly. I'm sorry. Forgive me for any pain my medication may have or will cause you in the future." With that, he injected a needle of morphine into the IV drip and then slowly made his way over to his computer, where he began the triangulation of the darts in the Klaww Gang luggage.

Sly grunted, trying to get Bentley's attention, but Murray, not wanting to hear any more offensive language, had turned up his music, so Bentley couldn't hear him. Either that, or he was ignoring his _former _friend (or so Sly thought).

Even though he was still in pain and wanted nothing more than to apologize profusely for doing that, Sly closed his eyes and slept. Not well, though. His dreams were fraught with terrifying sensations and an utter loneliness. There were no objects, people, or even sounds until near the end. A figure came into view, shrouded in darkness, as if he were standing in front of a light in a dark room. The voice he had, while containing familiar undertones, was not one Sly had heard before.

"You carry me now," the personage said sinisterly, "you take me with you from place to place. You cannot be rid of me, and though are in control _now_, I can see the chinks in your armor, and I will exploit them, given the chance.

"Be mindful, Sly Cooper, for it is my nature to sever you from the things you hold dear. I will end you, and take this vessel as my own."

* * *

Inspector Fox walked calmly through the streets of Moscow, trench coat wrapped tight and collar up, covering half of her face. A knit cap covered the top of her head and her ears, and trigger mittens enveloped her hands. If she hadn't cinched her belt so tight, she could easily be mistaken for a male.

Carmelita held her wrist up to her face and pressed down on a button on her wrist with her three grouped fingers. "Anything, captain?" It was a moment before there was a response.

"Not yet, but give me just a little longer. You?"

"I have a few leads, but so far the ones I have followed up on have just been dead-ends. Everybody has a brother-in-law whose best friend's uncle did business with the Cooper Gang, but then I find out that none of their siblings are married, so we're back to square one."

"Ah, well, that is Russia for you, no? Did you end up talking with the informant who said that Sly would be at the museum that night?"

Carmelita sprinted across a slush covered road, and then responded, "I haven't been able to get a hold of them for the past few days. Of course, the reception here isn't the greatest, so who knows. I hope we find them before we leave this godforsaken country anyways. I do _not _want to have to come back here. Call me if you get wind of anything. Carmelita, out." She continued around the block until she saw her destination.

Though she couldn't actually read the Cyrillic letters, she did have them memorized and knew what they said. _Dust Antiques. _It sounded strange, but maybe it was just translated wrong. It was a small, fairly inconspicuous building. Perfect. Carmelita entered and scraped her boots on the mat inside. She was immediately bombarded by the shop owner, a white cat that had a patch covering his right eye. He was questioning her, no doubt asking what he could do for her, or what she was looking for. She wouldn't be surprised if she was his first customer all day.

"I'm sorry," she interrupted, "I don't speak Russian. I'm looking for someone. They said that they would meet me here." The cat stopped his jabbering, looked at Carmelita's bust, and then ripped off her cap, allowing her long blue braid to cascade down her back. He opened his mouth and let out an "ah" that blew the smell of alcohol into Carmelita's face.

"Come, come," he said, most likely the only English he knew, and headed toward the back of the store, cap still in hand. Carmelita sighed and followed him, unsure if he really understood, or was just looking to take advantage of the obviously curvaceous woman. For his sake, she hoped the former.

The cat opened up what looked like a wall, revealing a dark room with only one source of light, a dim yellow bulb hanging above a wooden table. Memories of a dangerous bout in Pakistan flashed through Carmelita's mind. He outstretched his arm, cap dangling from his paw, as if he were motioning Carmelita into a limousine. She entered and tore the cap from his grip before stuffing it into her trench pocket.

The wall slid shut behind her, darkening the room even more.

"Sit," said the shadows, voice deep and confident.

Carmelita cleared her throat before responding. "I can't see, I don't know where any chairs are." Though true, she could have easily reached out to find one. She just wanted to remain standing for as long as possible. Her shock pistol would be much more accessible that way.

"There are none. Sit on the table, facing away from me. Now." Normally she wouldn't have been bossed around so easily, but the voice, while definitely the voice of a strong male, was soothing. Like a lullaby- _Snap out of it! _Carmelita sat down, feet just now off the ground, and swung her legs a little.

"I'm sitting now."

"I know."

"… So can we continue? You told me that you know where the Cooper Gang is."

"Indeed I did. But that's not why you're here." Carmelita was taken aback. If not to find the location of Sly, then why _was_ she here? There was no other reason she would be in Russia, much less this shop. No, that wasn't true. Sly wasn't everything. If Barkley had asked her to come here for any other police related business, she would not object. "No, you're here because I want to tell you to get your priorities straight. Sly Cooper is nothing. There are much greater things in your future. I'll give you the location of the Cooper Gang so you can get them out of your way. So you can greater prepare for what is coming."

"What do you mean? What is coming?" Carmelita began to turn, ready to interrogate whoever it was she was speaking with (and what a great place to do it), but something cold and sharp pressed against her throat.

"Don't move, or I'll have your pretty face on a plate. Sly Cooper and his gang are positioned north-west of here, just across the Moskva river. There is a metro station, the Kropotkinskaya Station. Further instructions will be waiting for you there. But do not come before night fall, it is too dangerous otherwise." The blade moved from her neck and there was a scuffling sound.

"No wait! How will I find the instructions?"

"When you arrive, ask at the front desk for a package left by Dark."

"Dark? That isn't your real name, is it?" No response. "Is it?" Carmelita turned around, but there didn't seem to be anyone in the room with her. A quick scan of the room with her shock pistol's flashlight confirmed this. It also revealed an attic door on the ceiling. She stood on the table and pushed the wooden platform up. She couldn't see anything at this height so she leapt up and pulled herself onto her elbows. That was as far as she made it, her hips were too wide to let her go any higher. As 'luck' would have it, the owner of the store decided to check in at that moment.

Carmelita saw a flash, then another, and a third, but there was no thunder. "What the…" She kicked outward, striking the cat in the face. Giving up on trying to squeeze through the hole, she dropped back down into the closet space.

The owner was laying flat on his back, left eye black, and Polaroid camera on the ground next to him. Carmelita picked up the three photographs of her behind, and then tore them up in anger. "Pervert," she spewed as she left the building. 'Dark' had a few minutes head start, and she knew in the back of her mind that she would never catch him, but she had to at least try.

The Inspector pulled her cap back on, then took a look at her surroundings. Once she was sure that no one was watching, she crouched down, one leg bent, the other splayed out to the side, her tail straightening out behind her. Once she felt that her muscles were tensed to their peak, she let all of the energy go, pushing downwards. This jump launched her thirty feet in the air, more than enough to clear the top of the building. At the height of her ascent she spread her arms out, angled her body to be level with the ground, then tilted her face upwards. Even though her eyes were closed, she knew exactly where she was.

Much like a skydiver, she maneuvered herself so she would land on top of the shop. Just before she landed, she did a quick somersault, which both positioned her feet directly below her and slowed her down enough to prevent any chance of injury.

Carmelita let a small grin cross her lips, content with what she had just accomplished. Not many could do what had just done, and those that could were related to her in some way or another.

Ms. Fox pulled out her own camera, a thin tube with no eye piece, just the lens and electronic flash bulb. It was a simple device meant only for taking images, nothing else. Carmelita took a quick walk to a vent situated near the back of the building. There were wet shoe prints coming from the vent and heading north-west. She took a photo, then another, and finally a third. _The prints are headed north-west… And that station is north-west… Is he dropping the instructions off so soon? Or is it simply coincidence? If I head there now, I could possibly cut him off._

She sent the images to Interpol HQ before radioing the captain. "I've got a solid lead, and I'll need as much muscle as possible. Think you guys are up to it?"

* * *

Sly's eyes opened lazily, his world coming into focus slowly. He was no longer on the stretcher near Bentley's machines, rather in a room by himself. _So they found a safe house, I suppose. _The room was bare, nothing on the walls or ceiling, only one door and one window, which was open, allowing snowflakes to flutter in. They all melted before too long though, because next to his IV drip was a space heater.

Bentley was obviously still hurting from what had happened earlier because the door was closed, and unless he placed his ear against the door to hear Sly's grunts through it, there was no way to get his attention.

_Man, this IV really itches, _Sly thought. So far as he knew, the IV no longer was doing any good because he could feel the pain of the needle. That meant Bentley should be up here soon to put more morphine in.

_Wait… I can _feel _the pain! _Sly looked down at his hand, no longer gloved, and tried to move his fingers. It took some concentration, but a moment later, his fingers actually curled into a fist. _Yes! _He turned his head and clenched his other hand. Within minutes he was sitting up, legs hanging off of the edge of the bed, when Bentley came in, flicking a syringe.

"Hey bud," Sly said, voice quiet and raspy. Bentley jumped, both dropping the syringe and knocking his glasses off. Luckily, neither shattered.

"Sly, you're OK! You can talk! And move! When did this happen?!"

"Just now, I suppose. I woke up and my arm was itching, so I knew I had my feeling back. A few tests later, and here I am."

"Well, that's great! I guess that medicine worked."

"Sure, with a few side-effects. I'm sorry about that, by the way. I don't know what came over me."

"It's fine, Sly. You had the right be angry. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to be paralyzed in any sense. You said a 'few' side-effects? What else was there?"

"Oh, uh," Sly groaned as he stood up, Bentley quick to support him despite their size difference, "I just had some really strange dreams. But that's a normal one right?"

"Yeah, a lot of medications have that side-effect attached to it. And you shouldn't have to take the medicine anymore, as long as you don't lose feeling again."

"Alright, great." Sly was feeling better knowing that the dreams should go away soon, if not immediately.

A particular strong gust of wind ruffled Sly's fur, as he wasn't wearing any clothing. "Do you think I could get some clothes on?" Sly asked.

"Oh, yeah. We got some downstairs. It's pretty chilly outside, even _you'll _need to put on pants." They both chuckled as they headed down the stairs into the front room. Murray was stoking a large fire in the hearth. He looked up as he heard the laughs, and dropped the stoker, immediately scooping both Sly and Bentley into a large hug.

"You can walk! I thought you would be a vegetable forever, and you know how much I hate vegetables!"

"Haha, thanks big guy." Murray put them down near a pile of black, blue and white clothing. "Am I supposed to wear all of this?"

"Well, yeah, assuming you feel well enough. They didn't have any sweaters in blue, so we just got blue long sleeved shirts. The white would be for camouflage and the black is just a more comfortable color to walk around in during the day. You _do _feel well, right?"

Sly finished pulling on a blue shirt. "Yeah, of course, never better." He started doing jumping jacks, but dropped immediately to the ground, grabbing his head.

"Yeah, I don't think so Sly. Not yet at least. You need to rest a bit more. Murray, help me out." They picked Sly up, who was still grasping his head, and headed up the stairs.

"My cane," Sly hissed through gritted teeth, "where is it?"

"It's under your bed; we'll get it to you when we get up there." A quick injection, and Sly was sleeping with his cane hooked onto the IV rack. But he wasn't sleeping soundly.


End file.
